In a Foreign Land
by The Slice
Summary: It’s picturesque and expensive, and Ami uses logic to convince a logical mind to allow her to pay for herself. Mamoru is an orphaned college student and Ami has her wallet.
1. Part I: Roomies

Title: In a Foreign Land  
Author: Erica  
Fandom: Sailor Moon  
Disclaimer: Ahahahaha.  
Summary: _"Welcome to my humble abode," Mamoru says pleasantly, and though Ami would like to tell him that she thinks humble is pushing it a little, she holds her tongue and smiles._

I.

**In a Foreign Land - Part I: Roomies**

I.

Ami's back hurts from being stuffed into a small seat on a small plane, and she is sneezing terribly because a woman two rows in front of her had been far too liberal with her perfume before getting on board. When she gets up she stretches, wincing as her back pops and muscles ache. She shares a small smile with the man who had been sitting in the next seat to hers, and is fervently glad that she gave him a fake phone number when he asked.

She pulls down her overhead bag and slings her purse over her shoulder, half-heartedly trying to straighten her linen shirt and pants. It always pains her when she wrinkles some of Setsuna's designer clothes, much as she feels unworthy to wear them.

After an endless time, everybody has filed past the blue upholstered seats and walked down the terminal, blinking dazedly and relearning how to function without turbulence. Ami is exhausted and wants nothing more than to fall down and go to sleep, but first she must drag her luggage all the way through the confusing airport and hail a cab to take her to a hotel.

She is frustrated with herself, because she really should have had a place of residence paid for already, but there had been a series of crises that summer, which involved, amongst other things, a broken hearted and borderline suicidal Makoto, a staff shortage at her mother's hospital where Ami had volunteered, and the fact that Haruka had broken both her legs in a spectacular racing crash that had all the senshi grasping at their frantic hearts and thanking the stars that she wasn't just a bloody smear on the roadway.

Needless to say, with everything that had happened, finding a place to live had not been on the top of her list of things to do. Especially when she hadn't been one hundred percent positive the prestigious school would even accept her until the very end.

So it's a hotel that she must retire to, only to get up a moment later and go apartment hunting. Sighing, she raises her eyes to see what terminal she is in, and sees him, instead.

She stops in surprise, and waits with her mouth slightly open as he walks over to her through the crowd, a wry smile on his face. He gently closes her mouth with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. When he gives her a hesitant hug, his arms are warm and comforting, and she hugs him back, too surprised and bone-weary to blush.

She had not expected for someone familiar to be waiting for her on the other side of the ocean. It is a very pleasant surprise. When he speaks, it is in faintly accented English, and his voice rumbles through his broad chest like a dark growl.

"Welcome to the US, Ami."

I.

The car ride had been nothing so much as a tour. Mamoru had pointed things out and rambled a little about them, sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese. When he was not telling her which bakery was best, or where she could get her clothes dry-cleaned cheapest, it was silent, and Ami drew the soft driving sounds around her, as though she were reinforcing armor.

Finally, they arrived at a small apartment complex, near a part of town that was not so bad, but not so good either. Ami frowns, and coolly sweeps her eyes around her surroundings, looking for and finding all the little nooks and crannies, the good hiding spots and the places best suitable for quick getaways. It looks like the kind of place where that information _probably_ won't come in handy, but it's best to know it, just in case.

"I would lecture that you might not want to go outside at night, and not to speak to any strangers, but I know that you can take care of yourself, even if you do those things."

Startled, Ami looks at him, sitting behind the wheel of the parked car, all easy confidence and dark blue eyes. "Thank you," she says, softly. "Most people wouldn't agree with you."

Mamoru shrugs and slides back the lock on his car door so that he can open it. "They're idiots. And you shouldn't listen to them." He pockets his jingling keys and steps out of the car, going around to the back to pull out her bag. "C'mon Ami," he says with a smile. "Let's go inside."

Smiling back, she grabs her purse, and follows him up the cement steps to an apartment door that he has to bang with his shoulder to open. Ami knows that her skin will bruise every time she has to open the door, even if she will never feel such small, inconsequential pain, and decides to find another option. Inside is surprisingly clean; the carpeted floor only has one or two faded stains, and there are no clothes strewn about, the walls are white with a few photos tacked on – and one American Sailor V movie poster, she sees with amusement – and the air smells faintly like waterfalls and pine.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Mamoru says pleasantly, and though Ami would like to tell him that she thinks humble is pushing it a little, she holds her tongue and smiles, not feeling as though she quite has the privilege to be that familiar with her princess' boyfriend.

"It's lovely."

Mamoru laughs, a little sheepishly, and Ami realizes that some of her thoughts must have shown, and she blushes faintly, embarrassed at making him feel that way. She studies some of the pictures on the wall, so that she doesn't have to look at him. Most are of Usagi, but Ami sees that there are a surprising amount of all of the different senshi, and even Luna and Artemis.

Belatedly, Ami realizes that she doesn't really know Chiba, Mamoru at all.

"Well," he says. "Let me show you to your room, and you can-"

Turning around suddenly from her perusal, Ami somewhat rudely cuts him off. "My what?"

The gaze Mamoru slants at her would have caused her to flush in indignation – she wasn't a complete mouse, after all - if she hadn't been so occupied with being astounded. She wonders if her hearing is giving out, or if saving the world has finally made her crack.

"Your room," he repeats. When he sees no recognition, he frowns. "Didn't Usako tell you?" Ami shakes her head, and Mamoru sighs in something like fondness, exasperation, and resignation. "No, I suppose that does sound like Usako, doesn't it?"

"What sounds like her, exactly?"

He rubs a hand against the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, I had offered to let you room with me, here. It's close to the university, after all, and I could use some help paying the rent. I asked Usako to ask you if that'd be okay, and she said it was fine. I guess she forgot to actually ask, and just assumed. Sorry?"

Ami shakes her head, but says, "It's okay. And you're right, that does sound like Usagi." She is still reeling, and is slightly furious at her friend, but is glad that she lied when she sees the brunette break out into one of his devastating smiles.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. "I can make something quick if you like. Pasta? Or I can call in a pizza."

Bravely, Ami swallows her misgivings and grins back at him. "Pizza sounds great."

I.

While Mamoru is calling the pizza place in his room across the hall, Ami is listening to Usagi wail apologies on her cell phone cum communicator. She is very, very glad that she will not have to pay long distance phone fees. Ami winces and delicately rubs her temples; she should have waited until after she had a good night sleep before calling.

But Ami was already tired and irritable from the flight, and had been far too surprised and annoyed to think logically.

"Usagi," she cuts through, enjoying the feel of her mouth shaping Japanese words, rather than harsh American sounds. "It's okay, honest. I was just…it was just unexpected, that's all."

There's a pause, and then Usagi's voice warbles over the connection, as though she is blubbering in the very same room as Ami is in. Ami allows herself a little thrill of pleasure at how well she manipulated the electronics to work. "Are you sure? I mean, I didn't really think you'd mind, and then I forgot, and then it was too late, and you didn't have a place to stay anyway, and I'm sure people do it all the time in the states!"

Ami isn't too sure about that. Taking a deep breath, and praying that this situation never gets back to her old-fashioned, respectable mother, she says, "Honest, it's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, Ami, thank you! You're just too sweet! I'm sure you'll love it there, and it'll be easier living with someone you know, and this way you can split the rent, and even take turns driving to school together. He makes really good coffee, too!"

Ami frowns. "He's made you coffee before?"

"Er. Well, no. He only started drinking it when he was over there, but he says he makes it really strong, so I'm assuming that's good."

Chuckling slightly, Ami surveys the room she is sitting in. It's small, but not tiny, and it's possibly the cleanest part of the apartment. Mamoru had explained that he had been using it as a guest room-storage room, but he had cleared it out for her, since it wasn't doing much as a storage unit and was doing even less as sleeping quarters for company he rarely, if ever, had.

It was serviceable, and the bed looked very soft. There were two bookcases shoved against a wall, and a rickety dresser. It was a nice room, if not what she had imagined. But she wasn't staying.

"I really appreciate it Usagi, it was a nice thought. And it was very sweet of Mamoru to open his home to me. I'll stay here until I can find a place of my own, okay? I have the money for it, after all."

"Oh, but Ami-"

"No," she says calmly. The firmness of her voice makes her princess quiet and listen. "I am uncomfortable staying with only a man, and one who I do not know very well. Quiet Usagi, he may be your husband-to-be, but I have neither had the time nor inclination to spend much time with him, and so I don't know him nearly as well as you do. Maybe if I did, it would be different, but it's not."

Hesitant, Usagi points out that this would be a great opportunity to get to know him. And maybe it would be, but Ami is a smart girl, smartest in her class, and she knows that it is not a good idea, that if she stays something will happen, is bound to happen, to fracture their happy little world, and she does not want that. She doesn't know what it might be, but she doesn't want to risk anything, be it her reputation, her heart, or the future.

She cannot explain this to Usagi, of course, though she thinks that Minako or Michiru might have understood. Instead, she thanks the fact that her reserved manner gives her an easy excuse, and says her good byes.

Clicking off the cell, she sits in the quiet. She is afraid of getting to know her future King, here, without any buffers between them. Breathing carefully, she wonders which is harder: fighting villains, or fighting life.

"Pizza's here."

Ami jerks, and whips her head around, locking eyes with Mamoru's, where he leans dark and handsome against her open doorframe. He smiles at her, and Ami prays that she will get out of there soon. She is only human, after all, and she is in a foreign place amongst foreign people, with him the only piece of familiarity around.

"All right," she says, and follows him out.

I.

Fin.


	2. Part II: Confrontation

NOTE: So, not _quite_ a WiP, while being one. Yeah. Despite having already started Part III, please don't expect anything out on a schedule, or even relatively expediently. I don't do schedules or expedience well, I'm afraid.

**In A Foreign Land – Part II: Confrontation**

Ami is still convinced that she will be moving out soon. She says it to herself in the shower at night, with the sometimes-hot-sometimes-not shower pounding on her back, to ease away the muscle strain of carrying so many books in her new book bag. There, in the small, curtained shower, no one can hear her talk to herself and tease her, and she can hear herself form the words within the roar of the pummeling water.

Sometimes, she knows, it is better to speak, than to just think. It is not an easy thing for her, however, and so she does it in secrecy.

In the morning, she mouths it in front of the mirror, after she rolls out of bed at the chirping sound of her alarm clock, and the muffled thud and creative curses of Mamoru falling onto the floor in his room across the hall. Instead of remembering all those times that Usagi has complained about Mamoru being such a morning person and realizing that, no, he isn't really a morning person, he just does what he has to do, and ungracefully, at that, she watches her lips shape the words while she brushes out her short locks, and when she cannot because she is busy brushing her teeth, she thinks them.

It is repetitive, mechanical. There is no feeling in it. Because, despite the words, sometimes spoken and sometimes not, it is really only a superficial conviction: she doesn't really believe it.

If she believed it, she would have already moved out, would have found her own apartment or signed up for a last minute dorm room. Would already have been picking out nice reading lamps to put beside her comfortable sofa. She comes from money, after all, and does not have to live in a dump like the one Mamoru rents out.

_I am leaving as soon as I find a place,_ she murmurs, the sound of water like many troubled heartbeats all around her. She welcomes the cold water that the heater supplies, the temperature calling to the icy strength hidden inside her. _I have no attachments here_. _We are bound only by a duty that has no place here, in this time of peace, in this new, foreign school_.

In her dreams, she curls up on an old divan, an American Sailor V poster across from her, and a good book in her hands, and Mamoru walks casually over to turn on the garage sale lamplight. She smiles up at him, and wakes with a silent, trembling cry.

III

"Let's go out for lunch."

Ami cannot hear him, because her headphones are on, and her music is loud to block out the nonsense-thoughts that always run around her mind, like hyperactive children pointing to anything and everything and asking, "What's this?" and "Why?" and a thousand other things. She could get lost in her mind if she let herself. She cannot hear him, but she can read his lips, easily, and she thinks, _Yes, because we eat lunch together all the time_, _and a change might be fun_.

They have never eaten a meal together since her first night there.

She opens her mouth to speak, and when she cannot hear her words she realizes that she has forgotten to take off her headphones. She blushes, and remedies the matter. "Are you sure?"

Mamoru blinks at her, as though she has just asked the stupidest thing on the planet. In the back of her mind, something riffles through her memories and remembers that he does that a lot during senshi meetings, and that Usagi used to – and still does, in fact – get blinked at a lot. Ami doesn't let it bother her. She _knows_ that she is not stupid.

"Of course. Why else would I ask?"

_For a lot of things: as a joke, as a prank, to get answers from me, to get something _else_ from me_. Her mind, ever quick, brings up memories better left forgotten. _A lot of things; I know_.

But this is Mamoru, future King of the Earth and Usagi's sweetheart. He is not _using_ her, at least, not in those ways - no, not in _those_ ways. He has different motives, she is sure, and wonders if it is cruelty or obliviousness that makes him use that phrase. He does not know what a knife it can form, to whittle away pieces of your soul when you are unsuspecting.

Ami has taught herself to always be aware of the ways of the wicked. Ignorance is not bliss.

"All right. Let me put my books and notes up, and I'll grab my shoes and we can go, okay?" The smile he shines on her could light up the world, and Ami reminds herself that she's supposed to be moving, not staring like a star-struck groupie. That was always more Minako and Makoto's forte, than hers.

_Right_, she thinks. _Moving_; acting instead of reacting, and her mind buzzes with possible scenarios and ulterior motives. She has been a soldier for years, and she is brave enough; and she knows, now that she has grown out of her childhood, that it is better to go for the jugular from the get go. That way she will not be distracted by false hopes for long.

She is a very cynical person, she realizes, and even all of Usagi's goodness has not managed to change that fact; has not managed to balance out the harsh lessons nerdy, outcast Ami learned young.

Why would he ask, indeed?

III

Lunch is spaghetti and cool iced tea at an outdoor café, where they can sit and watch children play across the street. It's picturesque and expensive, and Ami uses logic to convince a logical mind to allow her to pay for herself. Mamoru is an orphaned college student, after all, and Ami has her wallet with her.

They pass the time with nonsense talk, about classes and professors, entering for a few minutes into a gentle banter over the pros and cons of leaving in the West Hall vending machines or extricating them in order to have a deli, and what would be the best campaign effort to bring the school populace to their side - a logical or emotional appeal, or a simple appeal to their bellies?

It's nice, enjoyable, and Ami allows herself to appreciate being with a person whom she doesn't have to curb her language around. She could use five syllable scientific terms or Latin verbs, conjugated, and not have to worry about explaining what, exactly, she is on about after.

It's dangerous, she reminds herself, knowing that she could be falling into a trap, or climbing up to better the fall when reality and people let her down, again, and for an afternoon does not care.

But in the end, she chastises herself for allowing her emotions to overrule her mind, and knows that she needs to end this, to scrape away the prettiness to get to the possible ugliness underneath. She hasn't been able to talk to Usagi on the phone without her trying to cajole her into staying, the strange, silly, overly trusting girl, and Ami is getting wearied by it.

Casually, as they are strolling through the park, eating ice cream and admiring the way the trees are just beginning to turn, Mamoru says, "By the way, there's a nice swimming pool not two blocks from here."

Ami cannot help herself. She is too tired to be timid, and this feels far too much like a date for her peace of mind. "You're trying to bribe me into staying, aren't you?" She should blush, but she doesn't; her eyes narrow instead.

Glancing sideways at her, Mamoru blinks, and this time it isn't the stupid-blink, but something a little more like startled respect, and Ami thinks she could get used to that. She doesn't want to get used to that. "Yes," he says, candidly.

Ami nods, "I thought so. Why?"

At this, Mamoru's eyebrows shoot up, and he gives her a stupid-stare, which is even worse than the stupid-blink. She frowns, her face flushing, and she doesn't know why she's getting so worked up, but she is. "I have my suspicions," she defends herself, "but they're only hypothetical, not conclusive, and why shouldn't I ask you, after all?"

Beneath her words lies an echo that sounds uncomfortably like _why should I trust you_.

"Alright," he concedes, perhaps hearing what she doesn't say. "Because I need someone to room with me; I can't afford the rent on my own."

Ami wonders if he is being purposely dumb, and then chastises herself for being so mean, even though, she knows, she has been meaner to other people in her thoughts that day. "And me? Why me, specifically?"

"Well you're here, aren't you?"

And that is possibly the rudest, truest, simplest, purest thing he could have said, that Ami wants to hit him for it and thank him at the same time. "I don't believe you," she says instead, in a moment of daring boldness. "I don't believe that that's all it is. What do you want?"

Mamoru looks at her, bewildered, and says nothing.

III

Fin.


End file.
